"A cruise ship’s passenger log is comprised entirely of the exact demographic that is least prepared for a cruise to go to pot."

"A cruise is a giant boat full of your mother-in-law. Your mother-in-law does not belong in the wild."

So writes Monica Hesse in the Washington Post, where I guess mother-in-law jokes are okay. (What is it, the 1950s?) Oddly, Hesse is also claiming to love cruises. And she prefaces her disparagement of older women with "I say fondly."

About those 4,200 cruise ship passengers...

Do they all imagine they are media stars now? Do we have to hear from each and every one about what they did with their precious bodily fluids?

“It just feels so good to be on land again and to feel like I have options,” said Tracey Farmer of Tulsa, Okla. “I’m just ready to see my family. It’s been harder on them than us I think because they’ve been so worried about us. It’s been extremely stressful for them.”

Tracey Farmer — if that really is your name — please go home to Tulsa, Oklahoma. All of you 4,200 people, please melt back into your normal lives in your respective hometowns.

Unless you have a distinctive and grisly detail or a truly idiosyncratic way to describe the mundane, I don't want to hear about it. I don't want to hear how it feels good to be back on dry land, how you care about your family with whom you are at long last reunited, how stressful it all was, and the crushingly obvious fact that shit stinks.

You are all people who went on a cruise in the first place. That's where you made your mistake.

The America Christopher Columbus discovered on October 12, 1492 was an island in what is today the Bahamas.

The Commonwealth of the Bahamas is today's "History of" country. It was an island that was inhabited by the Lucayans, who called it Guanahani. The Lucayans had canoed over to the Bahama islands between 500 and 800 A.D.

The Bahamas held little of interest to the Spanish other than as a source of slave labor. Nearly the entire population of Lucayans (almost 40,000 people total) were deported over the next 30 years. When the Spanish decided to evacuate the remaining Lucayans to Hispaniola in 1520, they could find only eleven in all of the Bahamas. The islands remained abandoned and depopulated for 130 years afterwards....

English settlers began arriving in 1648. The first, who called themselves Eleutherians, were farmers who didn't do too well. The New Providence settlement, begun in 1666 "made their living from the sea, salvaging (mainly Spanish) wrecks, making salt, and taking fish, turtles, conchs and ambergris."

Conflicts with the Spanish ensued over this salvaging of Spanish wrecks, and in 1685, the Spanish burned down New Providence and Eleuthera and these places were "largely abandoned." Five years later, the place was full of English privateers, who — after England made peace with France — became pirates. Then — if I'm reading this right — the pirates got back to being privateers or back again to being pirates depending on whether there was there was a war going on.

If you want to investigate the privateer/pirate distinction, you can look here.

Nowadays, the Bahamas seems like a nice place to go for vacation, and it looks like the tourists like the pirate-related attractions, like the Pirates of Nassau Museum, which invites you to "plunder" its gift shop.

"Boy, I can't think of a better Christmas present than to read about these vile unpleasant asocial deluded individuals suffering..."

"... all locked together in a big metal box. Schadenfreude to the max."

What happens if you're out on a cruise ship, and someone accuses you of rape?

You might spend the cruise in the brig:

The men, both Orthodox Jews from Israel,... say that after climbing into their beds the first night, they were awakened at 5 a.m. by crew members who made them get dressed “in prison garments issued by Royal Caribbean.”

Without explanation, the staffers paraded [Eviator] Mor and [David] Amsalem “through public areas of the ship to a lock-up facility,” court papers state.

Several hours later, they were told they had been accused of raping an “unidentified woman” who later recanted her allegation and who was examined by a doctor who determined she hadn’t been sexually assaulted.

“Notwithstanding the woman’s recantation and the doctor’s conclusion . . . Royal Caribbean’s arresting agents refused to release plaintiffs or to modify the conditions of their imprisonment,” according to the lawsuit.

Yes, it's a lawsuit. They're only asking for $100 million.

This is one reason I would avoid cruise ships. It's a little city out there. What is the government in that little city? You take it for granted, but you know there will be crime. Rape and accusations of rape must happen all the time. The cruise ship company obviously has its lawyers and its policies and must want to handle these things well enough that news like this never comes out, but obviously, there will be some screwups. I assume Royal Caribbean offered these men a generous settlement, but they want more. The publicity is awful. And yet, people will still pay money to ride those floating cities.

"Suddenly... I stumbled and ended up in one of the lifeboats."

The hilarious pratfalls of the Cowardly Captain of the Costa Concordia.

"I have always been scared of those boats, but my girlfriend kept on saying that it was romantic, and I gave in."

"There were not enough lifeboats. The pilots were not sailors but waiters who had no idea how to maneuver and kept on having us turning in circles. It was the first and certainly the last cruise of my life."

Have you ever given in and — against your better instincts — gotten on a cruise ship? I haven't. But I have read "A Supposedly Fun Thing I'll Never Do Again" — PDF — perhaps the most amusing essay I've ever read. Apparently, it's all quite awful even when it's not some "Titanic"/"Poseidon Adventure" experience.

"Pay Pal founder... Peter Thiel has given $1.25 million to an initiative to create floating libertarian countries in international waters..."

"Thiel has been a big backer of the Seasteading Institute, which seeks to build sovereign nations on oil rig-like platforms to occupy waters beyond the reach of law-of-the-sea treaties. The idea is for these countries to start from scratch — free from the laws, regulations, and moral codes of any existing place.... [T]he experiment would be 'a kind of floating petri dish for implementing policies that libertarians, stymied by indifference at the voting booths, have been unable to advance: no welfare, looser building codes, no minimum wage, and few restrictions on weapons.'"

So... it's basically a cruise ship, right? But you're stuck there indefinitely. And you're not going to call up the United States to rescue you when things go awry, right? I just have one request: Cameras everywhere! We want to watch your reality show.

Twilight, Lake Superior.

This evening, in Bayfield, Wisconsin.

"A cruise is bad enough -- locked aboard a floating death-trap with people -- other people! -- with no means of escape."

"And then the ship stops. And the toilets stop working. And everything stinks like a sewer, which is a nice smell to smell when you're already possibly sea-sick. And then, worst of all, you find out that you're surrounded by magicians. What could be worse than a no-way-out floating sewage-smelling magician convention?"

On the up side, consider that people who go on a cruise are people who go on a cruise. How sensitive can they be?

Eco-tourism, the guilt-trip.

Enough whale-watching for you. Time for urban cruise where the sightseeing is the pollution and blight of L.A. harbor.

On a drizzly afternoon, a group of tourists huddle aboard the Christopher sipping wine, nibbling cookies and gazing out at the ocean just off Long Beach. Cameras dangle from their necks, ready to record the sights....

Corroded metal shipping containers, belching smokestacks, trash-strewn waterways and oil islands highlight this harbor cruise.

The 2 1/2 -hour excursion takes passengers through a seascape short on the picturesque but full of concrete and metal -- a ride through exhaust-tinged air and past power plants, rusty warehouses and the Terminal Island prison that once housed Charles Manson and Al Capone.

What's with the wine and cookies? Shouldn't it be something more medicinal and off-flavored? Wheatgrass juice and vegan sushi, maybe.

(I must admit, I would enjoy this cruise. 1. Great photo-ops. 2. Reality is always beautiful/interesting from a safe distance.)

Somali pirates, U.S. crew, Rush Limbaugh, and Barack Obama.

I was listening to the beginning of the Rush Limbaugh show as I was cooking lunch this morning, and he was going on about the U.S. crew that was taken hostage by pirates off the cost of Somalia today. He'd slotted the story into his Obama-doesn't-know-what-to-do template and was riffing away about Obama's indecision and what he must be fretting about and how he'd probably want to apologize to the pirates and so forth. The big show was steaming along. (I thought a good ending would be: hostage crisis... it's Jimmy Carter all over again.)

And then he was slipped the news that the U.S. crew had taken their ship back, defeated the pirates. And Rush should have turned that big show around instantly. It should have been: Yay, America! Americans don't lie back and wait to be rescued. We're ready to fight. We're self-reliant. The government isn't the answer to everything. There were lots of great alternate Rush Limbaugh templates to mobilize right then. This is why we need to have our own guns. This is why the bitching about Bush after Katrina was all wrong. Etc. etc.

But Rush couldn't turn that big show — that big container ship — around. He couldn't let go of Obama doesn't know what to do, and I felt a little sad about my radio hero.

Come on, Rush, be agile! I thought you knew how to do that. Eh, enough about Rush, I want to celebrate the American crew. Go America. And to the rest of the world: Look on and admire. Learn something.

Christmas in airports.

Last Christmas, my scheduled flight to Austin -- where both my sons lived -- got canceled, the rescheduled flight got canceled, and it became impossible to book a flight that would get me to Austin in time for Christmas. It was 5 p.m., 2 days before Christmas, when that happened, and I decided I needed to throw my bags in the car and drive the whole way -- 1200 miles. I made a thermos of coffee and, drinking a cup, tried to think how far I could get that night and whether I could be sure to get to Austin by the end of the next day, Christmas Eve. But it was icy in Wisconsin. They were saying don't drive anywhere unless you have to, and I pictured myself struggling over Route 151 around Dubuque, where it seems so lonely at night, even in summer, and kicking myself for having this stupid, grandiose idea of The Heroic Cross-Country Drive to Save Christmas, so I dumped out the thermos, unpacked my bag, and nursed a humble feeling of resignation toward spending Christmas alone for the first time in my life.

I blogged it only tangentially, here, last Christmas Day:

Merry Christmas.

I hope you have a happy Christmas, if you're celebrating Christmas. Is anyone here not celebrating Christmas today? If so, is it because you never celebrate Christmas or is this year different for some reason? Are you experiencing Christmas woes? For Christmas solace, congregate here.

I was "not celebrating Christmas today," because by then, I'd rescheduled Christmas for January 25th, when I did go to Austin.

But now it's Christmas 2008 -- 2008, the year with 2 Christmases -- and I'm happily in Madison and not alone -- though I am the only one awake, which makes for good blogging time. And I see that many people are stranded in airports:

Tom Waltz, his wife, Kristina, and their two daughters played a Christmas Eve game of Crazy Eights in a corner at O'Hare International Airport, trying to forget the past four days of flight delays and cancellations that spoiled their holiday plans.

The family from Vancouver, Wash., tried to fly out of Portland, Ore., on Saturday, but a blast of snow and ice kept them from getting a flight for two days. On Wednesday evening, they hunkered down for their second night at O'Hare, awaiting a Christmas Day flight to Miami, where they hoped to catch a Caribbean cruise on Saturday.

"It stinks," said 11-year-old Samantha Waltz. "We're playing cards to get our mind off of things."

Aw, Samantha, some day you'll think fondly of the time your family was all together and you played Crazy Eights on the carpet in an airport. It's a nontraditional Christmas celebration, but then, so is a Caribbean cruise. And maybe this family doesn't even celebrate Christmas. I guess missing one's cruise pretty much sucks too -- or stinks, as the nice kids say.

Merry Christmas to all, wherever you are, whatever religion or nonreligion you are. Are you reading this blog while stranded in some airport? I acknowledge your disappointment. The time in airports is also part of life, though it's one of those parts we wish away. Perhaps the happiest moment of your life will be spent in an airport. Perhaps the happiest moment of your life will be spent in an airport because you were delayed. On Christmas.

Why is it so hard to fight pirates?

"[T]he bureaucratic and legal hurdles facing international institutions and national governments have so far defeated most efforts to deal with the nimble crews of pirates in speedboats, whose tactics have grown bolder as their profits have paid for better weapons and equipment."

Number of ships hijacked this year: 40.

Ransom collected so far: $25,000,000.